


Dark Night

by WahlBuilder



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 13:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Something burns in the city, and Jacob comes to the train—bringing a precious burden with him.





	Dark Night

A sudden lurch of the train nearly sends all papers scattering. And it’s the same moment when Evie gets aware of the peeling of bells. A fire, close by.

Jacob.

She goes to the second carriage to ask Agnes why they stopped, even though it seems someone has signalled for the train—when a horrible figure stumbles into the carriage. It takes Evie a moment to realise that the charred, smoking thing is Jacob—with a burden he lowers so very carefully on his settle—and then falls by it to his knees, like a sack.

There is a reek of burnt things: cloth, paint, metal. Hair.

Evie puts her hands on her hips. ‘Jacob, what—’

‘I’m not leaving him.’ She barely recognises his voice, scraped—and broken.

He lies on the body on the settle, like a mourner in a fit of grief (he didn’t grieve over Father like this, a though flickers in her mind)— But the body stirs with a shuddering breath, and she reaches for Jacob’s shoulder—when Henry—Mr Green—stays her hand. Evie looks at him, but he’s looking at the one on the settle. ‘It’s Mr Roth,’ Mr Green says quietly. ‘The Alhambra is burning. I’ll get the doctor.’

The Alhambra? _Maxwell Roth?_ But questions die on her tongue when Jacob shudders and lets out a sob— no, a _wail_ , animalistic, terrible, the like she’s never heard from him before.

Evie wraps her hands over his shoulders firmly, pulls—but he only clings tighter. She glances at the gangster—one of Starrick’s— It doesn’t matter now. There are dark patches under the stained, blackened shirt on Roth—bruises? tattoos?—it doesn’t matter now either.

Hasty steps come close, and she tries to pry Jacob away, but he shakes his head, once, twice, like when they were children, and lets out a sob. ‘I’m not leaving him!’

Evie’s eyes burn with tears. ‘Jacob. You can stay here, all right, watch the doctor—but the doctor needs room to work! I’m not kicking you out! You may stay with him!’

‘I’m not leaving him!’ he repeats again, but he goes weak and she pulls him away, and goes down on the floor with him, pulling his head to her chest. Taking a look at him at last.

He’s crying, tears streaming down his cheeks in a torrent, like rain. Evie strokes his hair. ‘It will be all right,’ she murmurs over and over. Hoping to talk it into existence.

They will be all right.

**Author's Note:**

> Self-care is writing fix-it's.


End file.
